Might Not Make It
by You'llRememberMe
Summary: Shawn is staked by a vampire-obsessed lunatic and, like the title says, might not make it. Juliet and Lassiter search for the suspect while Henry and Gus wait for news on Shawn. More surprises yet to come. PLEASE REVIEW!
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: I'm not sure how good of a story this is, but it just kind of kept nagging at me to be written. I hope it's okay, but if it's not, well, it was written at 1:30 AM. Please Review!**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Psych or any of it's characters**_

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

Gus kneeled on the wet grass as he held his best friend's hand tightly in one hand and tried to staunch the blood flow with the other while they waited for the ambulance to arrive. "I don't know how you managed it, Shawn," he said angrily to mask his panic. Shawn didn't have to see Gus in that state. It would only make things worse. "Only you," he continued, "would confront a vampire-obsessed psychopath and end up getting staked."

Shawn laughed, which caused him to start wheezing and then slowly coming down to shallow and quick gasps. "Buddy," he said weakly, but still with that ever-present Shawn-humor in his voice, "I hadn't planned on it. If I'd known he was crazy enough to do what he did I wouldn't have- actually, I probably would've anyway."

Gus tried to mask his worry with anger again, but he just couldn't. Shawn's skin was getting paler and Gus noticed that he was now kneeling in a steadily growing pool of blood. As Shawn's eyes started to close Gus yelled, "SHAWN!" Shawn's eyelids flicked open at the sudden noise. "You have to keep your eyes _open_, buddy. The ambulance is almost here." At least, he hoped it was.

Shawn didn't seem to hear him anymore. His eyes started to close again, and no matter how much Gus tried to get him to open them it didn't work, and then Shawn's breathing turned worse. It became ragged and labored.

_Oh, God, _Gus thought, _I can't lose him. Not yet. We're supposed to be old and gray when we die. Not like this. Not like this... _Gus could hear sirens in the air now and the screech of tires as Lassiter and Juliet arrived.

"SHAWN!" Juliet yelled frantically as she Lassiter ran to where Gus and Shawn were.

"What the hell happened, Guster?" Lassiter demanded.

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

**A Little While Earlier:**

"We know what happened, Ivan," Shawn said to the suspect in front of him.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Ivan denied, but his eyes were flicking around the room nervously and he avoided eye contact with Shawn.

"We know you murdered Stephanie Lillard." Shawn continued, "Because, Ivan, I know everything. I'm psychic, you see." Gus rolled his eyes but, fortunately, Ivan didn't notice it.

"I did not!" Ivan whirled around to look Shawn full on. "Stephanie was my friend! I wouldn't hurt her!"

"But you did, Ivan," Shawn brought his left hand to his temple. "I can see it. It's hazy, but I can make out two figures. You and Stephanie. You're leaving a club and you're both drunk. The two of you start fighting because she wants you to leave your wife, but you say no. She threatens to tell her if you don't leave her so you did what you thought had to be done. You killed her to keep from talking."

Ivan's eyes glanced to the unarmed Gus and then back to Shawn and then to the small box sitting on a table. Ivan opens the box and takes out a stake before either Shawn or Gus know what's happening, and then Ivan lunges for Shawn and Gus here's a yell and a thud. The next thing Gus knows Shawn is on the ground, both hand pressing down on a gaping hole in his abdomen, and Ivan is out the door and undoubtedly getting in his car.

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

**Present Time:**

Gus finishes the story quickly as he watches the paramedics load Shawn onto a stretcher. Gus didn't know what was happening, the paramedics had forcibly removed him from Shawn's side after a lot of protesting and yelling. Lassiter had been the one to actually pull him away.

"You two approached a suspect _alone_? With no backup?" Lassiter growled. He didn't wait for an answer, but instead went on talking, "How stupid are you two?"

Gus knew Lassiter wasn't really insulting him. He was just trying to do the same thing as Gus. He was trying to keep his panic from showing, but he could see it in Lassiter's eyes. He was worried for Shawn almost as much as Gus.

Gus noticed the paramedics loading Shawn into the ambulance and went after them without a word to the head detective. Lassiter looked for Juliet as the ambulance sped towards the hospital. She was rooted to the same spot she'd stopped at when they had reached Shawn.

Her face was pale and a few tears slid down her cheeks. She stared at the pool of blood on the grass outside Ivan Sadusky's house, never glancing up. Not once.

Lassiter put a hand on his partner's shoulder and turned her to face him. "Get a hold of yourself, O'Hara." He said firmly, but not unkindly. "There's nothing you can do for Spencer if you just sit there and stare. The one thing we _can _do is catch the bastard that stabbed him."

Juliet nodded and wiped her cheeks. Gaining some resolve she headed to Lassiter's car. "Let's go then."

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

Shawn was rushed into the ER as soon as the ambulance doors opened. Gus attempted to follow but wasn't allowed in. He made his way to the waiting room and sat in one of the hard chairs.

Shawn's condition hadn't looked good when they first arrived, and it had just gotten worse. While in the ambulance, Shawn had stopped breathing for a while, and so had Gus. He just couldn't lose him. Neither of them were ready. They were able to get Shawn breathing again, but he still hadn't opened his eyes.

Gus closed his eyes for a moment and prayed. Then he pulled out his cell phone and dialed a very familiar number.

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

"Spencer," Henry barked into the phone out of habit. It was lunchtime and he had just been about to dig into a hamburger that he thought just might be perfect. He didn't like being disturbed while he was busy.

"What?" Henry growled into the phone. "I can't understand you, Gus. Wait, what do you mean Shawn's in the emergency room? What did he- He got _staked_? What does that mean? Never mind. I'm on my way." He hung up the phone and almost ran out the front door.

As he got into his car he thought, _What if he doesn't make it?_

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Alright, I know this chapter is a little late, but I found it very difficult to write for some reason. I'm not sure how well it's written but I hope you enjoy it. And ya know what? If you don't like it, or if you do, you can tell me by REVIEWING! Please, please, please review! It will help me write the next chapter faster!**_

_**Oh, and thank you to everyone who reviewed the first chapter or added it to their favorites list or put me on alerts! And to those of you who didn't: I know you read the story so I expect reviews!**_

_**DISCLAIMER: Psych isn't mine. It never will be. Do I have to torture myself like this every time?**_

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

The detectives stood side by side as they looked at the black tire marks on the suspects driveway. Lassiter was staring at them with a critical eye while Juliet stared into the distance. Her mind was somewhere else, with someone else. So at first when Lassiter spoke she didn't even hear him.

"O'Hara?" Still no response. Lassiter cleared his throat and tried again, louder this time, "O'Hara!"

Juliet flinched but she heard him. Lassiter gazed at her expectantly until she blushed, realizing that she'd spaced out. "Sorry," Juliet said, "I was just..." She trailed off, not needing to explain what, and _who _she'd been thinking of.

"Like I was saying," Lassiter went on, "the treads indicate that he pulled out at a high speed and went that way." Lassiter pointed left, towards the less populated part of the neighborhood.

"Then that's where we'll go," Juliet finished and the two headed back to Lassiter's car. They hoped they could get this guy before he caused any more harm.

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

Gus tried to ignore the annoying sound Mr. Spencer's shoes made on the hard white floor as the older man paced the length of the waiting room. For the last hour he'd been trying to keep his mind off Shawn by reading the only magazine in the room that looked even the slightest bit intriguing, but Henry's pacing only reminded Gus of why they were here. Gus sighed and tossed the old _People _magazine on the nearest table. It was useless to even _try _and distract himself.

"Where the _hell _is that damn doctor!" Henry snarled, "We should have heard something by now!"

"Mr. Spencer," Gus tried but Henry kept going.

"Shawn could be _dead _and we wouldn't even know because this damn doctor was to stupid to notify us!" Henry was so angry that he didn't even notice the doctor enter the room.

"That _stupid, incompetent _doctor!" Henry exclaimed and the doctor raised his eyebrows.

"I do hope you're not talking about me," The doctor said walking over to the two men.

"Of course not," Henry didn't miss a beat. "We were talking about..." Henry couldn't seem to come up with anything further so Gus helped him out.

"One of the doctor's on my route," Gus contributed and Henry nodded his thanks. It was the first time Henry had let Gus get a word in since Shawn had been taken into the ER.

"Well that's a relief," the doctor flashed them a smile, "I'm Dr. Rathburn." He extended a hand but neither man made a move to shake it.

"Just get to the point already," Henry said impatiently.

"What he means," Gus interjected, "is how is Shawn?"

"Well," Dr. Rathburn began, "he's..." Dr. Rathburn trailed off as his gaze shifted to focus on something behind them.

Henry and Gus turned to see what had distracted the doctor and saw Lassiter and Juliet walk in. Lassiter flashed his badge at an approaching nurse to let her know they were cops and proceeded to walk past her.

"Gus, how is he?" Juliet asked nervously as she and her partner came to stand beside them.

"I was just about to tell them." Dr. Rathburn said, "I'm Dr. Rathburn." He glanced down at his clipboard and then at the detectives, "You must be Juliet O'Hara," he looked at Juliet and she nodded. Then he turned to look at Lassiter and Lassiter stared back expectantly."

"And," The doctor's eyes flicked down to read something on his clipboard again, "You're Carlito Lassiteros?" He said doubtfully.

Juliet and Gus chuckled a little and Juliet said, "That's so Shawn." Henry didn't show any emotion on his face though, and when they saw Lassiter's they stopped laughing.

Lassiter's face had taken on a sour look and he showed Dr. Rathburn his badge and introduced himself, "Head Detective Carlton Lassiter."

"Ahh, I see the similarities," Dr. Rathburn said, "Mr. Spencer added you're descriptions underneath your names. It's how I knew who you were."

"What does it say?" Lassiter asked suspiciously.

"Um," Dr. Rathburn searched for a way out but found none, "well, the young lady's said: Pretty blonde, blue-eyed female detective." Juliet blushed and the doctor went on, "And yours, sir, said: Tall, sour-faced detective with large ears." Lassiter muttered something unintelligible underneath his breath but said nothing else.

"Can we get back to my son's condition?" Henry asked and they were all suddenly alert.

"Ah, yes," Dr. Rathburn looked at another page on his clipboard, "Your son is lucky, Mr. Spencer," Everyone, including Lassiter, though he would later deny it, let out a sigh of relief.

"The wooden stake used to stab him," Dr. Rathburn continued, "didn't hit any vital organs. He's in surgery to repair the worst of the damage, but it will heal. He lost quite a bit of blood, but not enough to need a transfusion. We wondered why he passed out so quickly but we chalked it up to shock and pain."

Henry fell into a chair and closed his eyes. He thanked God that his son was all right. Gus and Juliet hugged, a comforting gesture between two friends. And no one saw it but Lassiter whispered a thanks to whoever was listening and then addressed everyone.

"So, we tracked the car that the perp took," He said and Gus and Henry looked up, listening, "and we found the car," Lassiter looked to O'Hara to finish.

"But we didn't find the guy," She said, anger radiating from her eyes.

"We will," Lassiter assured them, "We have-" He was cut off by a sudden beeping. The group looked around for the source and saw Dr. Rathburn pull a pager out of his pocket.

The doctor's face paled and he glanced up to find the four of them staring at him. "I-I'm sorry, Mr. Spencer, we really did think we had everything taken care of." He hurried through the doors at the end of the hall that went to the ER, but he called back, "I'll have a nurse come and, ah, fill you in on what's happened." Then he ran, more like _flew _through the doors.

"What the hell just happened?" Lassiter asked.

"I don't know," Gus said. He and Juliet looked as confused as Lassiter did.

"Something bad, obviously," Henry said grimly. The group exchanged glances. Shawn's condition must've changed, and they could all guess that it wasn't for the better.

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

_**I hope you enjoyed this! Please review and let me know how I'm doing! Oh, and keep reading!**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: I know I should've posted sooner but I've been so busy this past week! If I wasn't going away Thursday and not coming back till Monday I probably wouldn't have even thought about reading. That and the fact that I am stuck in my room with nothing to do but write because my sister has been hogging the bathroom for the past TWO HOURS! At least it feels like two hours. It's more like an hour and a half.**_

_**I know this is short but I hope it's at least kind of worth it.**_

_**Oh, and there's been an amazing lack of reviews. Okay, I've gotten them, but compared to the number of people who favorite this story or put it on their alert list it's nothing! Please feed my muse and review! I'm begging now.**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Psych or it's characters. But I do own Dr. Rathburn. Don't like his name very much but I own him.**_

_**One last thing: I'm sorry for any and all medical errors I made. The internet and wikipedia weren't very helpful for me. Or maybe they were, but I couldn't understand them.**_

_**ENJOY!**_

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

_** "**_CLEAR!" A female doctor shouted as she attempted to restart the victims heart. The man on the table jerked as she brought the paddles to meet his flesh. Everyone in the room listened desperately, but heard nothing.

"Again!" She cried, and then muttered, "C'mon! You can't die on me now!"

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

A redheaded nurse shuffled quickly towards the foursome anxiously awaiting her. As soon as the group saw her they converged on her and each one started yelling things. She held up her hands and raised her voice, "Quiet! I can't hear you when you talk over each other!"

They fell silent for a moment before they all started to talk again. The nurse could only hear snippets of questions.

"How is-" From the blonde with worried eyes.

"What-" From the tall man with big ears.

"Will he-" From the dark-skinned man with tear-filled eyes.

And finally a full question from the bald man with a hawaiian shirt. "What the hell happened?"

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

"What the hell happened?" Dr. Rathburn yelled at the surgeons surrounding a still body on the operating table. The surgeons ignored him as they shouted orders at one another. He pulled on his gloves and headed into the crowd of doctors.

"Again!" The doctor with the paddles shouted, "Clear!" The man's body convulsed and everyone in the room heard that signature beeping again. They breathed a collective sigh of relief. That sound was the best thing any of them could've hoped to hear.

"What happened?" Dr. Rathburn asked again. An older nurse walked over to him and he could see the tired lines on her face. She'd seen enough of this type of thing to last her more than one lifetime. They all had. And that's how they all knew they weren't out of the woods just yet.

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

"I'm Lorraine, and you must be the father," The nurse stalled. She didn't like telling people bad news. Never had, never would.

"Yes," Bald Man said, "And I want to know what happened to my son."

"Ah, well," Lorraine didn't want to hurt them, they all looked so tired and worried. At least, she thought the tall man with large ears was worried. Lorraine couldn't really tell.

"Get to it, _Lorraine,_" Tall with Big Ears urged, no, _demanded_. Lorraine could tell that he wasn't a man inclined to asking.

"Well," Lorraine began, "while they were finishing with young Mr. Spencer he had a, uh, seizure." She saw the elder Spencer pale and heard gasps from the others. "We're not sure what caused it, but the doctors are trying to find out right now."

"What do you mean you're not sure?" Dark and Tearful asked.

"Well, he was stable through most of the surgery. This was so sudden. None of his injuries caused it. Now," Lorraine tried to finish informing them, "I'm sorry to say it, but I have to tell you that he flatlined."

"No..." Blonde and Worried whispered. Lorraine could see several emotions play across her face. Shock, denial, despair, and more denial.

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

Dr. Rathburn and the nurse standing next to him watched as the man was wheeled out of the room. He turned to the nurse and fixed her with his stare.

"Now," He said, "tell me how it happened."

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

"But I'm happy to say," Lorraine watched as four stricken faces were raised to meet her gleeful one, "that the doctor's were able to revive him."

"Oh, thank God," Blonde and Worried whispered. She and Dark and Tearful exchanged relieved glances.

Lorraine also heard Tall with Big Ears mutter something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "Damn you Spencer. You just have a flair for the dramatic. Like the damn nurse. Dammit." Lorraine's smile grew wider, she could tell for sure now that he was concerned.

Her smile faded when elder Mr. Spencer, who hadn't been too hasty to be relieved just yet, asked, "So why did he have a seizure?"

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

"You're not serious." Dr. Rathburn said flatly.

"I'm sorry, doctor," Nurse McMurphy answered, "But it's true."

"You're telling me that the man was _poisoned _and we had no idea?" The doctor said incredulously.

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_


	4. Chapter 4

**_A/N: So, I believe this chapter is long overdue. I've waited a long time because I didn't want to do the research required if I wanted to make it accurate. I hope you guys like this chapter! It's longer than the last one so that always makes me happy. :)_**

**_DISCLAIMER: I don't own Psych or any of it's characters. That's the reward Steve Franks gets for his effort to keep Shawn and Juliet apart. Oh, how I wish he wasn't such an evil genius..._**

**_And I tried to make this as accurate as possible. And I know I don't mention the thing I was researching here, but you'll find out eventually :P_**

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

Dr. Rathburn walked into the hospital room housing his newest patient. He stared at the boy in the bed sadly. He was so young. Just by looking at him you could see the youth draining out of him by the minute. It wasn't fair for him to die just yet. It wasn't his time.

And that's when Dr. Rathburn vowed not to let this patient die. Not while he was still around.

Suddenly his patient started convulsing violently. His limbs jerked everywhere, uncontrollable. Dr. Rathburn ran to the side of the bed and tried to hold down the boy's left arm. If he wasn't stabilized and restrained he could injure himself further. Or tear open his stab wound.

"NURSE!" Dr. Rathburn yelled into the hallway, "I need assistance!"

A nurse rushed in and took a moment to look around before calling in more doctors. Soon there were five of them in the room. Four of them attempted to tame the wildly waving legs and arms while one attempted to stabilize the patient and get him breathing again.

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

"P-poison?" Gus repeated. _Could this day get any worse? _He thought despairingly. He glanced at Henry to see how Shawn's father was handling this, but all Gus saw in his face was a blank wall of no emotion. Gus glanced away thinking that it wouldn't hurt him to show concern for his only son.

"I'm afraid so," Lorraine said solemnly, "and I'm also afraid to say-"

"Oh, quit with the dramatics!" Lassiter exclaimed. To most people he just sounded annoyed, but to those who knew him he sounded, well, concerned. Not that the detective would ever admit it.

"Carlton!" Juliet rounded on her partner. This day had taken a horrible turn and he was only making matters worse, and it was wearing on Juliet's already thin patience. "Let her finish."

"As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted," Lorraine glared at Lassiter. It was an odd expression on her warm and welcoming face. "Is that while we have stabilized Mr. Spencer for the time being we have not yet been able to identify the poison used on him."

"Can you do _anything_?" Henry growled.

"Ah, well, we're running tests," Lorraine stammered. Henry's anger was actually palpable, they could all feel it radiating from him which only added to the tension in the room.

"What I meant to say was," Henry said angrily, "can you do anything _useful_?"

"Mr. Spencer," Gus said quickly, "They're doing everything they can to help Shawn." It was a natural instinct for Gus to protect those in the medical profession. Because although Gus was a pharmaceutical salesman, he considered himself to be a part of that profession. He turned his attention back to Lorraine, "What else can you tell us about Shawn's condition?"

At the mention of his son Henry composed himself again. He'd been getting ready to shout at his son's friend and the nurse, but now his emotions were carefully controlled. He couldn't afford to lose that control. Not here, not now. Not when he knew Gus was right.

Juliet and Lassiter, who'd been silent for quite a while now, trained their gazes on the young nurse. She squirmed now that all the attention was being focused on her, but she seemed to actually like it. She'd never been a part of something so dramatic, and she was enjoying every minute of it. Enjoying being a part of something so crucial to the lives of these people.

She cleared her throat before she spoke, "Well, um, I don't really know how to say this but-"

"Oh, come _on_! How much longer can you stall?" Lassiter exclaimed.

Lorraine felt a tear slide down her face and she quickly wiped it away. These people were effecting her too much. Their emotions were too strong for her to ignore. She couldn't stay objective about this. This was not something she wanted to tell these people. She felt like if she told them she would be killing them, which, judging by the expression of the young dark-skinned man might actually happen.

They all watched as Lorraine took a deep breath and plunged right into what she had to say.

"-"

"Slow down," Juliet said, "we can't understand you." It finally occurred to the young detective that this may not be something she wanted to hear and that's why the nurse was getting cold feet.

"Sorry," Lorraine stared down at her white nurse's shoes before regaining the courage to tell them what they had to hear.

Wether they wanted to hear it or not.

She looked at all of them apologetically, like it was her fault she had to tell them some of the worst news, probably _the worst _news they'd ever hear. Again she had to take a deep breath, "I'm sorry to say that after the doctors brought Shawn," She used his first name for the first time to try and make it hurt less, "back he went into a coma."

"Oh, God..." Gus whispered. A million things ran through his mind, but only one stuck. It was the memory of Ivan stabbing Shawn with that stake, and how if Gus had only moved a few feet he could've prevented it.

Juliet didn't say anything. She was already in tears and leaning heavily on Lassiter. He didn't even seem to mind, considering that she was getting his new jacket all wet. Lassiter seemed to be stuck in a state of shock. Unmoving, unblinking. It was very disturbing to see the Head Detective at a loss for words.

Henry had found a chair and was now slumped into it. His head was in his hands and his shoulders shook gently. He wasn't crying though. He was laughing at his own stupidity. He was stupid for ever thinking of Shawn following in his footsteps. He never should've started training Shawn as a cop. If Henry hadn't pushed him towards law enforcement none of this would've happened. Shawn wouldn't have gotten arrested, wouldn't have pretended to be psychic, wouldn't have started Psych, and he wouldn't have been in a coma.

"And," Lorraine continued quietly as she watched these people quickly come undone, "He has only hours to live."

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

_**I hope the end wasn't too much of a cliche.. I was kind of nervous about ending it that way, but I hope it was good anyway. Please tell me how I did with this chapter and what you liked, disliked, suggestions for the plot, etc.**_

_**I really appreciate reviews!**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: Alrighty! Well, here it is! The fifth chapter of 'Might Not Make It'! I'd like to thank all you faithful readers (and reviewers!) out there who've stuck with this story!**_

_**It's not ending just yet! So that's not a goodbye speech, though you may here one from a some specific characters in a certain story... Mwahaha!**_

_**But there's no need for a CharDeath warning yet! So don't worry! **_

_**This chapter is a gift for dare-to-dream22! If it hadn't been for what's on this day (not sure if ya want me to say) then I prob'ly would've procrastinated and this would've come out, like, on the weekend.**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Psych. It would be a crazy show if I did!**_

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

"Oh-oh, God," Gus whispered. He felt his knees buckle underneath him and he collapsed to the cold linoleum floor. He couldn't believe this was happening. It just _couldn't _be happening. Not to him, not Shawn. He was always the invincible one. The one who would go through it all and be the last one standing.

Gus was lost in his own grief-stricken thoughts and didn't notice how the others took it. He didn't notice how Henry's eyes got glassy and distant and he just seemed to deflate. All the fight gone out of him, all that stubborn defiance Gus had witnessed firsthand just _gone. _It was like he was a bubble and someone popped it. It just didn't exist anymore.

Gus didn't notice when Lassiter stalked over to the wall and hit it with all the force the detective could muster, or when he hit it again. Like it was the hospital's fault that Shawn was... dying.

He didn't see how Juliet turned to her partner with a tearstained face and told him to stop. And then Gus missed how the young woman leaned on Lassiter and sobbed, and then he put his arms around her, not caring what people thought. They were partners and one of their friends would be dead within hours and they couldn't do a damn thing about it.

No. Gus didn't see any of that. All he saw were memories of times past. Shawn's mischievous grin before they did something stupid, and the time they decided to have a race on their bikes and ended up in the ER. Just where Shawn was now... or well, had been.

He did see Henry turn to the nurse, who was still standing there with a tear trickling down her face. He looked at her with devastated eyes and asked in a ragged voice, "Can I see my son now?"

The nurse led him away quietly. She told the others that it would be best if there was only one person in the room at a time. Gus watched the elder Spencer walk down the hall towards Shawn's room and it finally reached him that his best friend since childhood was leaving him.

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

Lassiter felt grief coiling around his soul, like a boa constrictor squeezing the life out of a victim. Lassiter shoved the feeling away, he had no time for it. He had an idea and it couldn't wait. He lowered O'Hara into a hard hospital chair and before he turned away he put a hand on her shoulder in a quick, comforting gesture. Sure, if he let himself he'd be feeling this grief too, but he knew that O'Hara's pain would still be double that. He didn't even want to think about what Guster and Henry were going through.

"Guster," Lassiter said, earning the attention of the whole group. "Do you remember anything strange from Mr. Sadusky's house when you and," Lassiter was almost afraid to say his name for fear of sending everyone back headfirst into their own personal misery, "when you and Spencer went in?"

The tiniest bit of hope filled Gus's brown eyes and he latched onto Lassiter's idea like, as Shawn would say, a drowning cat. Gus got to his feet and paced. There was something he'd noticed, he was sure of it. If only he could remember...

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

**Ivan Sadusky's House Earlier That Same Day:**

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

"Shawn, this isn't a good idea!" Gus whisper-shouted at his best friend as the were sneaking along behind some hedges.

"Gus don't be a soggy hamburger bun," Shawn said, carefree as usual.

"We can't just walk in there!" Gus argued.

"What do you think we've been doing the past four years, Gus?"

Gus fell silent then; he had nothing to say to that. They _had _been doing this for years, and they'd somehow managed a miracle in not getting sued. Gus hoped it would stay that way.

"That's what I thought. Now c'mon, man!" Shawn urged him toward the house.

Shawn crouched down a little and started running to the back door. Gus hesitated for a moment before following him, but not before muttering something about how stupid what they were doing was and how they'd get caught and sued and how Gus would never be able to get a good job again because he'd have a criminal record.

Soon enough the two of them stood pressed up against the side of the yellow house, in an attempt to not be noticed by anyone looking out the window. Shawn grabbed the doorknob with one hand and slowly turned it. The door opened easily and before Gus knew it he was standing on the doorstep looking inside while Shawn pranced around Ivan Sadusky's living room looking for evidence.

"Shawn, we shouldn't be here," Gus said, an overwhelming sense of foreboding sweeping over him. He was suddenly very anxious to get away from the badly furnished home, unable to shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen.

"Buddy, you're not even _in _here." Shawn said, picking up a Sports Illustrated magazine. He flipped through the pages absently, "Stop being chicken."

"I am _not _a chicken, Shawn." Gus argued and crossed his arms over his chest, "I'm just being cautious. Ivan could come back at any time, and if he really did kill that woman he could kill us, too!"

Shawn completely ignored him and moved on to inspect the ugly pastel couch, "And worse, you're not even a rooster. You're a hen."

"Shawn! I'm _not a chicken!" _Gus yelled angrily, "Or a hen," he added just for good measure.

Shawn started making clucking noises as he moved to the end table and opened the drawer. That was it. Gus took a step forward, just barely feeling the breeze from the fan blowing inside the room...

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

Wait a minute...

The fan...

"That's it!" Gus exclaimed, startling the grieving people.

"What?" Juliet asked him hesitantly, not sure if she should get her hopes up, "What is it?"

"Guster," Lassiter eyed him, "What do you remember?"

Gus's excitement overshadowed his anger, sadness, and guilt for a moment as he told the detectives what he remembered, "There was a fan blowing!"

Juliet stared at him with sad eyes, thinking he'd finally snapped. That the weight of the situation had forced him into some odd coping mechanism.

Lassiter looked at him first with anger for leading him to believe that there was something they could still do, but then that feeling seeped away and left pity in it's place.

Gus saw the looks he was getting and decided he'd better try explaining some other way. He thought for a moment before speaking, "Some poisons are carried in the air, guys." He waited for that to sink in a little, "It's the only way Shawn could've been poisoned! Think about it. Stephanie Lillard had traces of an unidentified toxin in her blood, but there weren't any holes from a syringe or any other serious injuries."

Juliet jumped up from her chair and shared a quick glance with Lassiter before she pulled out her phone. Lassiter did the same and soon both detectives were speaking rapidly to different people. Gus was a little confused at first, but then he realized that they must be informing the Chief about this new revelation. He just didn't know who the other person was.

Juliet was done with her conversation first. She looked at Gus and explained, "I just told the Chief about our suspicions. She said she'd send someone to check it out."

They both looked at Lassiter, who was still firing orders at the unknown person at the other end. They wondered who it was.

"I don't care if you haven't finished with the scene yet!" Lassiter paused for a moment as the other person spoke.

"I'm telling you to get out of there now! There's poison in the house. Spread through the air," Lassiter told the mystery person. The person seemed to believe him because Lassiter hung up, a somber expression on his face.

"Who was it?" Gus asked.

"Detective Marrs," Lassiter answered, "He took over the case when O'Hara and I came here. Said he was going to get everybody out of there as soon as we were done."

"That's it?" Juliet asked.

"Well he said that explained why some of the officers were complaining about headaches," Lassiter said.

Juliet and Gus shared a grim look before Juliet said, "Let's hope we got them out of there in time."

Lassiter nodded and then got back into detective mode, "Guster, you stay here and keep us updated on Spencer's... condition." Gus knew he meant that he wanted to know how much time they had left.

"O'Hara and I are going to go find Sadusky," Lassiter said, "And then we're gonna kick his ass all the way to the station."

With that the two detectives turned and walked down the hall towards the exits. As Gus watched them leave he could only hope that they got back in time. Or else... Well, Gus didn't want to contemplate that right now. But they were running out of time, there was no denying it.

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

**_So what did you think? The end was a little rushed in my opinion, but I'm just so excited for the premiere of Criminal Minds in like 10 minutes! And I really had to get this story out already._**

_**You can expect updates on the weekends guys! Unless something comes up.**_

_**So tell me everything you think of this story when you REVIEW!**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: I'm really sorry for the super long wait! I really didn't mean for it to go on this long. I will try my hardest to keep it from happening again.**_

_**I hope this chapter makes up for it though. Because it's the longest one I've ever written for this story.**_

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Psych... but I absolutely loved the double episodes on Wednesday!**

**ENJOY!**

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

Lassiter casually walked into the cold room that was the morgue. Though his deceptively calm walk gave away nothing of the inner turmoil he was feeling, his eyes showed just the barest hint. He was practically a master at concealing his emotions, but though he believed in it, there was no such thing as perfection. No matter how badly he wanted everyone to think he was in control, the truth was that thoughts in his mind whirred about from one crazy theory to the next. It was all wildly out of control. And nothing like the Lassiter the rest of the police force knew.

He glanced over at his partner, taking in the hunched shoulders and glazed look in her eyes. His mouth formed into a tight line, he knew what this was doing to her, and he knew that there was really very little he could do about it. Lassiter suspected that in a matter of hours, about the time Spencer had left in this world, she'd be completely broken. He didn't want it to happen, but being a cop meant facing even the harshest realities.

Taking his eyes away from Juliet, Lassiter pushed open the doors to the actual place where the autopsies were performed. He saw Woody, the resident coroner, standing beside the cold metal slab the currently housed the body of Stephanie Lillard. The woman's eyes were closed, and she looked almost peaceful, but Carlton knew how she'd died and couldn't stop himself from seeing a grimace twisting her pretty face.

Stephanie Lillard had been having an affair with their suspect, Ivan Sadusky, and it hadn't ended well for her. She'd been leaving a bar with Sadusky when she'd threatened to confront his wife, Nina, about the affair, and then he'd killed her. Her death wasn't sudden, though. With the new information concerning Spencer's stabbing, and poisoning, they'd found the cause of death of Stephanie.

She had been poisoned.

Lassiter's original theory had been that Sadusky had stabbed her to death, and she had been stabbed, but it apparently wasn't the real reason she died. Sadusky had practically turned her into Swiss cheese. They hadn't been able to find the murder weapon until Spencer was "staked". It seemed completely obvious now, considering that the bar the two had left was a known wannabe-vampire hangout. Of course, they'd still been wrong in that line of thinking. Sadusky had poisoned her; just like he had with Spencer. Now it was Lassiter's job to prevent another body from entering the morgue.

"Ah, Detective Lassiter," the coroner greeted, then, noticing Juliet's small form, "and Detective O'Hara! I would say it's great to have some _live _company down here, but," he glanced at Stephanie's body, "that would be disrespectful to my companion here."

Lassiter ignored the impulse to just turn around and leave; it was extremely important for him to be here, no matter how much Woody gave him the creeps. He approached the coroner with faux calm and asked in his most authoritative voice, "What do you have for us?"

"Well," Woody reached for a clipboard on a nearby table, "I've identified the cause of death."

O'Hara's head snapped up, suddenly on alert, and she pounced on this new piece of information like a starving tiger, "What is it?"

"Poison," Woody said satisfactorily, as if he'd just solved all their problems.

Lassiter saw his partner's shoulders droop again, and the look in her eyes go distant. He knew he had to work fast, lest he loose her completely.

"We already know that." Lassiter spoke quickly, "Anything else?"

There was a pause that seemed to last forever. "I _did_ find something strange," The coroner's words couldn't have come any slower.

"Well, what was it?" Lassiter's patience was already thin, but if this man kept him waiting like this much longer he'd shoot himself.

Woody moved around the table Stephanie currently occupied so that he was next to her head. Lassiter saw O'Hara quickly gain interest, and he was grateful she was still aware of what was going on.

"The inside of her throat," Woody began, "contained traces of a white powder. Almost undetectable, but once the news of Shawn's," he paused, unsure of how to say it, "_condition _reached me I decided to take a closer look."

"Has the residue been identified?" Lassiter questioned.

The coroner shook his head sadly, "Our lab is lacking; I'd need something to compare it against to say for sure what it is."

Suddenly Juliet spoke up for the first time in what seemed like hours, "Thanks, Woody. We need all the information we can get if we're going to solve this." She sounded determined, which Lassiter deemed a good sign. If she had a purpose, then she had a distraction from the reality they were in.

"Come on, Carlton," she said, catching the older detective by surprise. No one ever ordered him around, except the chief, especially a Junior Detective. Lassiter started following her out anyways, knowing that if he tried to take control just now she'd sink back into her depression.

"Where are we headed, O'Hara?" He had a suspicion, but he needed clarification so he could report to Vick.

"You and I are going back to Ivan Sadusky's place."

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

**The Hospital: Shawn's Room**

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

Henry followed the young nurse down the hall to his son's room. Apprehension settled in his stomach, a well-known feeling now after all the times Shawn had been admitted into the hospital, but it seemed different this time. Maybe it was because this time, Shawn might not walk out.

The father imagined Shawn walking out of this wretched place. He could just see the the cocky smirk on his face as he sauntered out the doors. He would look back at the hospital and laugh. Laugh at the absurd notion that he could be kept anywhere, least of all a hospital. Then, despite everyone telling him not to, he would snatch his helmet away from Gus, who would be telling Shawn how stupid he was being, and he'd walk over to where his motorcycle was parked. Gus will have brought the bike because Shawn had begged him to, there was no way Henry's son would be driven out by someone else. He wouldn't want to appear weak; so he'd hop on the bike, give his father and best friend his signature grin, and speed away into the awaiting traffic.

The image dissolved into nothing but the whimsical dream of a hurting father as soon as Henry neared the door. The door that led into the room Shawn was in. He grasped the doorknob in a white-knuckled grip as the nurse gave him a sympathetic smile, teary eyes and all, and walked away. He stood there for a minute, preparing himself for what awaited him. Then he stopped and turned so his back faced the door. He leaned against it heavily, whispering nonsense as he slid down the length of the door.

"Why?" Henry mumbled to no one in particular, "Why him? Why Shawn? Why _now_?"

He waited, almost like he expected someone to answer. "Why couldn't you have just waited till I was dead? At least then I wouldn't be around to feel _this._" Henry's hands curled into fists at his sides and he brought his knees up to his chest. It was frustrating, being able to do nothing, yet _feeling _everything.

The feelings ranged from heart-wrenching grief to burning anger. The anger Henry was all to happy to accept, it was the grief that he couldn't bear. It was a soul-sucking emotion that left him hollow, like nothing had ever lived in his shell of a body. It made Henry feel helpless, which he was. He couldn't do anything thing to help his son. Not a single thing.

Suddenly, in a single movement too fast for a man his age, Henry shot up from where he sat. He whirled around, turning to face the foreboding door, and at the same time brought his left hand, in a fist, to meet the cold, hard door. A resounding noise rang through the hall, and Henry felt a white hot pain in his hand. The pain helped, though, and it banished most of the sadness that had been dwelling in his heart. It cleared his mind enough that he thought he was ready to face what laid ahead.

Henry once again gripped the doorknob in his right hand, but this time he turned it and pushed the door open.

There, lying in a hospital bed, lay Shawn. There was an IV attached to his hand that dripped clear liquid, and a tube inserted down Shawn's throat. His skin was pale and a sheen of sweat coated his visible skin. It all made him look so vulnerable, so small in the hospital bed.

Henry moved closer to Shawn, wanting to be near him while at the same time wanting to run as far from the room as he could get. He was soon sitting in the lone chair beside the bed, and he reached for his son's hand, the one that didn't have the IV in it.

He grasped Shawn's hand, it was cold and limp. Completely unlike what it should be. Kind of like what Shawn looked now. He was the polar opposite of himself. The real Shawn was bright and enthusiastic; this Shawn was cold and almost lifeless. It just wasn't right, it was rubbing against nature itself.

"Oh, Shawn," Henry whispered, "how did we get here?"

_That's easy, _Shawn's voice said.

"Shawn?" Henry looked at his son, unconscious before him. He shook his head in confusion. First he went bald, now he's suffering from delusions?

_I'm in your head, Dad. I'm not really here. Not in your mind, and not in the real world. _Shawn's voice had taken on a slightly cryptic quality.

"Oh, great," Henry dropped Shawn's hand and rubbed his own over his tired eyes. "I'm going crazy. See what you drive me to, Shawn?"

_It wasn't your fault, Dad, _Imaginary Shawn sounded sad now. _I went looking for trouble one too many times, and I found it. Karma, I guess._

"It wasn't your fault, son," Henry squeezed his eyes shut against tears, and a mental image of Shawn appeared in his mind. "You didn't ask for this."

_No, _Shawn's image ran a hand through his messy brown hair, _but I got it anyway, and I deserve it. I've lied my way through life. Lied to the police, my friends. _The imaginary Shawn seemed to look straight at him, though it was all happening within Henry's mind, and he added sadly, _My family._

"You did what you had to do," Henry opened his eyes, Shawn's mental figure dissipating, and he looked at the actual body of his son. Shawn's eyes moved rapidly beneath his eyelids, like he was having his own internal battle with himself.

The voice didn't speak anymore, and for that Henry was glad. He didn't want to spend what could be the last moments he had with his son in his own mind. Again Henry grasped Shawn's hand, tighter than before, and realized that he never wanted to let go.

"You did what you had to do," Henry repeated, "and I did what I had to do to protect you. I didn't tell the cops that you were lying to them all these years, and I won't when... when you..." He was struggling now, his throat constricting, never wanting to voice these words, "When you're gone."

Then Henry broke. He bent over his son's form in the bed, crying. He clutched Shawn's hand in a fierce grip, so tight he could've broken the tiny bones in it. The tears fell onto him, and as each one fell Henry felt like it took a piece of his soul with it.

He took a deep breath, calming himself and loosening his grip on Shawn. Then he looked right into his son's face and said hoarsely, "What I'm trying to say here, Shawn, is that... I love you, son."

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

**The Hospital: ER Waiting Room: **

**A Few Minutes Later:**

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

Henry walked into the room they'd all been waiting in earlier wearing a mask of control. He didn't need anybody to see him how he'd been with Shawn. It would only make it more real for the others.

When he reached his destination he noticed that it was empty. That was odd. He'd left all of them here when he'd followed Lorraine, the nurse, to Shawn's room. He looked around, peering at the faces of strangers for the familiar ones.

He spotted a nurse standing near a door at the other end of the room. She was elderly with gray hair, but a quick and kind smile. He swiftly walked over to her, interrupting the conversation she'd been having with another younger nurse with blonde hair and green eyes. He asked her about the whereabouts of his companions.

"The two police officers left through those doors," she pointed to the ones on the right side of the room, "at about the same time as you left."

Henry nodded, he hadn't really expected them to stick around. They had a job to do, after all. "What about the other man?"

"Oh!" The nurse exclaimed suddenly, her eyes brightening, "You mean the delightful Mr. Guster?"

Henry was taken aback, he didn't expect Gus to be referred to as "delightful". Not in these circumstances. "You know him?" He asked her.

"Oh, yes," the nurse smiled, "we were discussing pineapple smoothie recipes. My grandkids absolutely _adore _anything pineapple!"

Henry snorted, it sounded just like Shawn and Gus. The subject of the two mad Henry remember why he was talking to this nurse and he asked, "Do you know where he went?"

The nurse looked bemused for a moment, her smile fading as she thought. A look of concentration settled over her features, then she said, "Why, I don't believe I saw him leave at all."

"What?" Was all Henry could say.

The nurse looked around to make sure Gus really wasn't there, "I have no idea where he went. I never even saw him leave." She frowned, "I would've thought a polite man such as himself would've at least said a simple goodbye."

Henry wasn't listening anymore though. His thoughts were scattered all over the place. Shawn was in the hospital, dying, and Gus was nowhere to be found. Henry didn't really know him all that well, but that didn't sound at all like Gus. He wouldn't just leave when a loved one was in the hospital, whether it was a broken wrist or someone was dying, Gus wasn't one to bail on them.

_So where the hell is he? _Henry wondered silently.

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

_**And don't forget to review! Reviews are always appreciated!**_


	7. Chapter 7

_**A/N: Soooo... How are you? Oh, gosh this is kinda awkward. I feel weird updating with a shorter chapter after, like, going of the grid (Well, for my Psych stories I was off the grid). I cannot apologize enough, but I hope the chapter will soothe everything.**_

_**I'm sorry I've been spending more time with my Criminal Minds stories than here in the Psych fandom, but hey, at least you're not the NCIS fandom. 'Cause I'm severely lacking in stories and updates there.**_

_**So, the next chapter is nearly finished, but I'm going on a short vacation this week, so no updates until Saturday or sometime after the weekend.**_

_**I hope you all still review. Each one really means a lot to me. And I want you guys to know that each one I've gotten in my absence has made me feel extremely guilty, and forced me to focus on writing more.**_

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Psych, but you know what? Neither I nor the TV show has come out with anything new since December... Huh, that explains the lack of inspiration.**

**ENJOY!**

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

Ivan Sadusky was scared.

He'd done some awful things, and now he was going to hell.

But not for the reasons one might think. One would think he would be sent to hell, A.K.A. a life sentence in prison, for murder, but no, that wasn't what he was going to hell for. While two homicides might get him that life sentence, he firmly believed that those crimes weren't, in fact, homicides at all. In his mind, which he believed to be _very_ clear, it was self-defense.

Stephanie had attacked him first, or at least that's what he thought. Her gentle touch that night as she looked into his eyes and asked him to leave his wife could _easily _come across as threatening. After all, she _had _had a knife poised at his neck. Rather, that's what he would tell his defense attorney.

And the nosy man he'd stabbed earlier had _obviously _been intending to rob him. Ivan had only been protecting his home, and himself. So, of course it was only self-defense. It's not like he _intended_ to kill him.

No, he wasn't going to hell for those crimes.

As Ivan peeked through the bushes, he watched the officers leave the "scene of the crime". Soon enough only one cop remained to guard the scene, to make sure no one contaminated the evidence.

Frankly, Ivan thought it was a little silly. It was his home, and having a guard there twenty-four-seven was a waste of time. He wasn't going to take anything.

That's when Ivan decided it was time to tell the good officer to leave his property immediately.

He hurried over to the young cop. A rookie for sure, Ivan thought. This guy didn't have the look of a hardened officer or detective. No, his dark hair still shone and he was still quick to smile. Not to mention he wasn't the least bit suspicious of Ivan. Not even a smidgeon.

"Excuse me, sir," Ivan called as he approached.

The young man smiled politely. "Yes?"

"You can go now," Ivan told him as he stopped just feet from the cop.

"What?" He asked, a confused expression settling on his face. "Who are you?"

"I live here," Ivan said simply. He watched as realization dawned on the man's face, and he went for his gun.

"Ah-ah," Ivan scolded. Then, quickly, before the cop could reach his firearm, he procured from his satchel a long, wooden stake about the length of his forearm.

The man's eyes widened, and without further hesitation, Ivan lunged.

Yes, that was what he was going to hell for.

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

Burton Guster's tiny blue Echo screeched out of the parking lot, and for once Gus didn't care whether or not the tires were damaged. He couldn't be in that place any longer. The sense of loss and despair was overwhelming, and it was suffocating him.

He just wanted to be free from it for a moment. Free from the sorrow and guilt. Free to be angry at the world, at himself. It really didn't matter which. His best friend was going to die either way. Nothing could change that.

_Except the antidote, _his conscience whispered.

Gus sighed, "Nothing but the antidote, which I don't have." Suddenly, a burst of anger overtook him. He slammed his fist on the steering wheel, causing the horn to blare loudly. "They don't even know what the damn poison is!"

_Then find out, _his conscience, which for some reason sounded a lot like his mother, said. _After all, it _is _your fault Shawn is dying. If you had stopped him from breaking into that house, none of this would be happening._

Gus didn't deny it, mostly because he'd be talking to himself if he did, but he couldn't see any way to find out what the poison was. He didn't have a lab to test it, and he didn't even have a sample of it _to_ test. The only other way to find out was if Ivan Sadusky suddenly decided to make an appearance and tell everybody what it was.

Somehow, Gus didn't picture Ivan barging into the police station saying, "Hey! I'm that murderer you're looking for! And, oh, look! Here's some of that poison I've been using to kill people!"

He shook his head to clear his mind. There was no purpose to imagining things that were quite impossible. He needed to focus on what he _could _do, but that was the question. _What can I do? _Gus thought miserably, _I'm just Shawn's best friend, his sidekick. I don't have his eidetic memory. I can't do what he does._

Just at that moment, Gus heard the crackle of static coming from the police scanner Shawn had somehow installed in the car. He wasn't sure exactly when Shawn had done it, but the point was that he had. Now, Gus had to suffer through random patrolmen reporting various things.

There were a few moments of just static before a voice floated through the speaker. "1732 B-bush street," the voice, a man's surely, paused due to a fit of coughs. "O-officer down. I-I repeat," the man hacked some more, "of-officer d-down!" With that, the broadcast was over and silence reigned.

Gus, of course, had immediately recognized the address. As soon as he heard it, he had made and illegal U-turn (thank God the road he was practically deserted) and started driving towards the address.

1732 Bush Street.

In other words: Ivan Sadusky's home.

Gus now knew exactly where he was going.

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

**Ivan Sadusky's Home: Seven Minutes Later**

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

As the Echo came to a halt in Ivan Sadusky's driveway, Gus couldn't help but let a shiver run down his spine. A strange feeling had come over him on the way there. He couldn't explain it, but he did know it wasn't good.

He cautiously opened the door, and he stepped out. Taking a second to survey the layout of the property. He was just about to head toward the house when something caught his eye.

It was an unnatural shine on the lawn that made him move forward. He didn't even know he was walking toward the odd shine until he was standing right beside it. He looked at it with a detached sort of curiousity as he tried to figure out what it might be. His senses only returned to him when the answer struck him. Then, he turned around and vomited.

On his hands and knees now, facing the direction he'd come from and not the... shine... Gus wiped his mouth clean on his sleeve. He couldn't believe he hadn't known what it was right away. It was ridiculous how naive he was sometimes. After all, how could one not know blood when they see it? Especially when one's friend was the one who left it there.

Gus mustered all the courage he could manage, and turned to face 'it'. He cringed as he laid eyes on it again, but didn't back away, like he wanted to. Because there was something weird about the blood on the grass before him. Something was off... If he could just figure out what it was!

Then it hit him: It wasn't Shawn's blood. Of this he was sure. Shawn had been stabbed on the other side of the yard. Not by the driveway.

But if it wasn't his, then whose was it? Gus didn't have an answer. Not yet.

He continued to survey the 'scene', feeling like he was a little kid playing cop. The longer he stared, the more questions he had. And he wasn't sure how to get the answers he needed.

At least, he wasn't until he figure out that what he was looking at _wasn't _a pool of blood.

No, it was a _streak._

That was when Gus knew that whoever had left the blood, also left a trail. So, in order to identify, and possibly rescue, the victim, Gus would have to follow it. And he did.

The blood trail, thinning out as Gus followed it, led into the garage. It was only on the grass, which was why Gus hadn't seen it on the driveway when he'd parked the Blueberry, and led into the side entrance.

Heart pounding, Gus slowly crept up beside the door, careful not to walk in front of the door's window. If he was seen, it could very well mean his death, and the death of whoever had been injured. Reaching a hand out to grasp the door handle, Gus took a deep breath, said a brief prayer to anyone that was listening, and slowly twisted the knob.

He knew that he should've called the cops, but he couldn't. Subconsciously, he'd gone there looking for trouble, not help, and now he'd gotten it. There had been nothing he could do for Shawn at the hospital, but where he was now? Well, he just might be able to save a life, and get revenge for a soon-to-be cut short one.

So, when he heard the voice of Ivan Sadusky yell, "Shut up, you stupid moron!" He didn't feel fear, as he usually would. Instead, he felt a flare of anger ignite inside him, and any doubts or hesitations he may have had before were gone in an instant. With his newfound bravery, he shoved the door open, letting light stream in to the formerly dark, dank garage, only to stop short of actually going in. Because what he saw inside the building, was not at all what he'd expected.

Instead of a helpless woman, such as Ivan's wife, being held captive while she bled to death, Gus came upon the sight of something else entirely. Lying on the dirty floor of the garage, in an eerily similar fashion to how Shawn had been earlier, was someone Gus _knew. _ The victim wasn't a nameless innocent, like he'd expected.

The victim was Officer Buzz McNab.

And just as Gus was processing this new information, Ivan let out a shriek and launched himself at Gus, effectively knocking him to the ground.

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

_**So, pleasepleasepleasePLEASE review!**_

_**PS: This chapter and the next weren't originally written to be two separate chapters, but it had to be.**_

_**PPS: Was anyone else extremely excited to see commercials for Psych on ION? I WAS!**_

_**PPPS: The long-awaited tenth chapter of A Kidnapping Catastrophe is THIS CLOSE *makes exaggerated gesture* to being complete! It should be up after the next update to this story.**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**A/N: Whoa. It's been a LONG time, but I hope I somewhat make up for it with a nearly 5000 word chapter :). By the way, this is the LAST chapter, so please be kind and leave a review.**_

_**I don't know what you'll think of this ending, but I hope you enjoy it. Because this chapter just DID NOT want to be written! It was getting ridiculous, so I just told myself to be happy with what I've written and post it already.**_

**_Anyways, ENJOY!_**

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

**Flashback: Ivan's Home, Earlier that day**

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

Gus tentatively and experimentally put his right foot in the door, causing Shawn to laugh out loud. Gus glared at him, but still refused to put his foot down fully. He chewed his bottom lip nervously, debating the pros and cons of breaking and entering. So far, the cons heavily outweighed any and all of the pros.

"C'mon, buddy," Shawn coaxed from inside the house. "You're acting like the building will explode if, God forbid, you do your job." Shawn proceeded to 'do his job' by lifting every badly upholstered couch cushion and inspecting the area underneath.

"I am a pharmaceutical sales representative, not a burglar, Shawn," Gus stated indignantly, adopting an unyielding stance just outside the door. "This is_ not_ my job."

A look of mock hurt settled over Shawn's features, and he slapped a hand over his heart, as if Gus had physically wounded him. "What about Psych?"

"I was forced into that and you know it," Gus snapped, crossing his arms over light purple shirt. "If you hadn't told the police you were psychic I wouldn't have to constantly haul your pasty white ass all over Santa Barbara in search of 'clues'".

Shawn smirked, "You know you love it." Gus's only response was to look away, and that was enough for Shawn, who grinned and added, "But if we're playing the blame game, then you really should be blaming Lassiter for all of it. If he hadn't tried to arrest me for something I didn't do..." Shawn trailed off and Gus snorted, vaguely amused, but not quite willing to show it. "Anyway," Shawn continued, "just wait for me out front and call if you see anyone coming."

Almost immediately, Gus had turned and was walking away. It was then that Shawn had a very important thought.

"Hey! Hey, Gus!"

"What, Shawn?"

"Will you bring me a snack?"

Gus didn't even look back; just kept on walking. If Shawn really wanted that snack, he could damn well get it himself. Burton Guster was no one's manservant.

_"Guuuussss!"_

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

**Present Time**

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

Juliet was just itching to get out of her partner's stuffy car. She may have told him where to go, but he'd insisted on driving. Because of him, it had taken them an extra ten minutes to get to Sadusky's home. It shouldn't have taken them long, but Carlton had decided they needed to take the 'scenic' route, then, just as they were only minutes away, his phone rang. Her partner had then pulled the car over, saying talking while driving was too much of a distraction in that situation, and answered the phone.

It had been Henry, she could hear him loud and clear, even though the phone wasn't on speakerphone. She couldn't be sure, but she swore Henry said Gus was missing. She listened intently as Lassiter continued talking while putting the car in drive again.

"What do you mean he's gone?" Her partner questioned, and it was followed shortly by "Dammit!" and Lassiter snapping his phone shut.

"What's going on, Lassiter?" Juliet asked, unable to stop the anxiety that crept into her voice.

"Spencer says Guster bailed on him at the hospital," Lassiter answered.

Juliet's brow furrowed in confusion. "Why would he do that? He's Shawn's best friend, he would want to be there for..." Juliet felt her throat constrict and tears fill her eyes and had to take a moment to compose herself. "He would want to be there for him."

"That's what I thought," Lassiter told her. "Then I thought about how the families of victims tend to react after they've lost someone."

Realization dawned on Juliet then, and she connected the dots. "You think he's looking for Ivan. To get revenge." Saying it out loud caused Juliet to frown; something about that theory just wasn't right. "That doesn't sound like him."

"Think again, O'Hara. What would you do in his position?"

Juliet didn't have to think; she already knew. She nodded, conceding that he was right. She was just about to tell him that when the police scanner crackled to life.

"1732 B-bush street," a familiar voice called out, "O-officer down. I-I repeat," the man let out a wet cough and Juliet winced, "of-officer d-down!" Then there was nothing.

Juliet and Lassiter shared a glance, but no words were exchanged. They weren't needed; because both of them knew exactly where that address was.

The tires of Lassiter's car screeched as he switched on the siren and lights and barreled down the road toward Ivan Sadusky's home.

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

Ivan raised a stake he seemed to have procured from thin air and prepared to plunge it into Gus's all-to-soft abdomen. It would be easy for Ivan to kill him in the position they were in. When Ivan had tackled him, Gus had been thrown to the floor and landed on his back. It had only taken a few seconds for the psychopath to kneel on top of him. He froze in fear for a moment before his self-preservation instincts kicked in, causing him to raise his hands in some sort of a protective gesture. It was futile, but he had to do something.

"Wait! Wait!" Gus cried, panicked.

"Why should I?" Ivan questioned, curious. "You're the spawn of the devil. I saw you break into my house with the other vampire."

"I-uh," Gus stammered, searching for a way out of this. Now that he had him talking, Gus might be able to stall him long enough to get out of this alive. Of course, he reminded himself with a wince, talking hadn't saved Shawn.

He saw Ivan grip the stake tighter, and his mind began screaming, _Think like Shawn! Think like Shawn! _So he did, and said the first thing that came to mind: "I'm a vampire slayer!" _Great, _Gus thought, _now I sound like I just jumped out of a _Buffy _movie_.

Ivan faltered. "Wh-what?" Gus nearly cried in relief when he saw some of the tension leave his attacker's body and his grip on the gleaming length of wood in his left hand lessen.

"Uh, yeah," Gus continued, trying to stay cool and collected. "I'm, um I've been hunting these, uh, foul, loathsome creatures for my whole life."

"Is that why you were here earlier?" Ivan asked. "Were you hunting that demon?"

"Yes!" Gus exclaimed, so relieved that his life was no longer in immediate danger he forgot to keep his exuberance in check. "I mean," Gus lowered his voice so it sounded calm and authoritative, "yeah. I'm a, uh, level three vampire and, uh, demon hunter with the Bureau of... Demonology."

"Oh!" Ivan scrambled off of him. "I'm so sorry, sir. I didn't know."

Gus could scarcely believe his luck! It was working! His half-assed plan was actually _working_! For a few moments, Gus was high on his victory, then a weak cough from the back of the garage reminded him why he was there and what was at stake. He composed himself rather quickly and stood, brushing himself off as he did so. He was surprised that he managed to maintain his composure the whole time, especially considering how fast his heart was beating, the fact that Shawn was dying and that he could see McNab lying in a pool of his own blood only feet away.

"Of course you didn't," Gus said slowly, trying to figure out what to do next and save both his life _and _McNab's. "I've been... undercover."

"Undercover," Ivan repeated, his brown eyes showing his confusion.

Gus nodded in affirmation. "Yes. You see, the police required my... services to, um, flush out the demons in the department." At this, Ivan nodded fervently, believing every word. Gus supposed that as long as he went along with his fantasy, he wouldn't become Ivan's next victim.

_Next victim. _The words made him shudder. Stephanie Lillard, Shawn and now McNab were Ivan Sadusky's victims. Gus swore then and there that he wouldn't be next, but not just for his own sake (though that was a major factor). He could see a light at the end of the tunnel now; there was still hope. He still had time to fix things. To save Shawn and Buzz.

_But how? _He racked his brain for an answer, but couldn't come up with anything. This wasn't his area of expertise, his forte. He wasn't a cop, and he certainly wasn't Shawn!

_But today I have to be, _he realized. He _had _to do this. There weren't any other options.

Returning from his internal debate, he saw that while he had been consumed by his thoughts Ivan had turned away and was now busily shoving various items into his brown satchel. As Gus watched for a moment, he realized that Ivan had probably reached his breaking point, and Gus knew from watching several episodes of _Criminal Minds _last week that it made him much more dangerous.

Suddenly, Gus had an idea. "Sadusky!" He called, channeling Lassiter for the time being, and Ivan whirled around, clutching the stake to his chest like a lifeline. "The Bureau needs your help."

"R-really?" Ivan stuttered, his pale face flushing with pride upon hearing that a fake agency needed his help. "What can I do?"

"Stand outside and wait for instructions from Detective Lassiter," Gus ordered, knowing that he was entering dangerous territory. He also knew that he had no other choice, and absolutely no other options. All he could do was hope that Ivan still believed him and that he hadn't taken his little charade too far.

Apparently, judging from the expression on Ivan's face, he had. _Uh-oh, _Gus thought, feeling panic and fear constrict his heart, which was thumping faster and faster. He took a step back, away from the lunatic in front of him, but Ivan simply took another step closer.

The look on his face was terrifying, and it was clear that he no longer believed Gus's lies. "Detective Lassiter?" He questioned. "That's the man that's trying to arrest me!"

"Oh, really?" Gus feigned ignorance, attempting to stall for just a little while longer. He knew he wasn't the only one that heard Buzz's call for help, but he didn't know when help would arrive. The last time he had seen Juliet and Lassiter had been at the hospital, and they'd said they were going to search for Ivan. They had to have heard the transmission and were on their way. Gus only hoped they'd get there in time.

"You're a liar!" Ivan spat, brandishing his stake as he got closer. "You're not with the Bureau of Demonology, you're a cop! You're trying to arrest me!"

Gus was about to defend himself, come up with something to hold him off, but didn't get the chance to because it was at that moment that Ivan decided to show off his impressive right hook. The impact caused Gus's head to snap to the right, he cried out in pain and stumbled in the direction of the punch. He was still recovering when Ivan landed another blow, this one to the solar plexus. It sent Gus to his knees, wheezing, and he knew it was only a matter of time before Ivan finished him off. He'd done what he could to hold him off, and now, because he had failed, he, Shawn and Buzz were all going to die.

But he wouldn't go down without a fight. Gus looked up and glared at Ivan, who was once again holding the stake above him, gripping it in both hands. The man had basically killed his best friend of more than twenty-five years and had wounded another friend of his. Gus couldn't die without trying to save himself and the others; he had to stay alive.

So, without hesitation, Gus lunged forward and grabbed Ivan's left leg and pulled, making the man loose his balance and fall backward onto the hard, cement floor. However, there was little time for satisfaction. Gus scrambled to his feet and stumbled over to McNab. He heard groaning behind him as his hands fluttered nervously over McNab's still form. He didn't know what to do; he didn't even know if McNab was still breathing!

Just then, much to Gus's relief, McNab uttered a low moan. He was still hanging on, but just barely. Unfortunately, Gus didn't have any more time to think about things, because Ivan had finally regained his bearings and had struck him on the head with something. All Gus had time to register was the blinding pain before he blacked out.

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

The minute Lassiter stopped his car and parked just behind Gus's blue Echo beside the curb, Juliet opened her door and leaped out. Two other cops and an ambulance soon pulled up as well. Despite Lassiter's calls for her to wait for him, she went ahead. She had pulled her gun the moment she got out of the car, and was heading for the front door of yellow, single-story house when she heard someone cry out. She stopped in her tracks and turned in the direction of the sound; she found herself facing the garage, which was separated from the rest of the house.

She started to run towards the garage, but slipped on something and fell on her backside. She spared one glance at the ground as she rose to her feet and found a sickening sight. Blood smeared the ground beneath her. It was on her clothes and covered the grass. She couldn't believe she'd missed it.

"O'Hara, what is it?" Lassiter asked as he caught up to her, his own gun drawn as well.

"Blood," she answered, looking up at him with fear in her blue eyes.

Lassiter's face hardened. "Let's go," he said, and they rushed to the garage door, leading a few officers with them. It was hardly a second after they'd reached the building that Lassiter threw open the door. The sight they were met with shocked them to the core.

They had opened the door just in time to see Gus get whacked over the head with a stake, which was wielded by none other than Ivan Sadusky. They watched, stunned, as Gus fell to the floor next to another body. One in uniform, one they recognized almost instantly as Officer Buzz McNab.

They soon recovered though, and their weapons were immediately aimed at Ivan's head. Their fingers were poised on the trigger, ready to fire at any moment.

"Drop your weapon!" Lassiter bellowed, moving forward and into the garage. He was beyond surprised when Ivan complied with the order almost immediately, but he didn't show it. Instead, he simply moved forward, returning his gun to its holster, and with practiced ease cuffed the man's hands behind his back and began reading him his Miranda rights. "We need a medic!" He shouted once he'd finished, and a pair of EMTs quickly rushed by to aid the wounded men on the ground.

Juliet, however, couldn't help the way her eyes bugged out when Ivan simply dropped the stake and raised his hands in a submissive gesture. They'd been chasing this man for days, and now he simply surrendered? It was bewildering, but Juliet had to get past it. She suddenly remembered something of extreme importance.

Lassiter was just passing her, leading their perp to the car, when she blurted, "Lassiter, wait!"

"What is it, O'Hara?" He asked tiredly. This day had taken its toll on him, and it was beginning to show.

"I need to ask Sadusky something." She then turned to the criminal and asked, "What poison did you use?"

She only got a blank stare in return. Ivan acted as if he didn't know anything, thinking that he could get away with not telling them anything. Then Lassiter shook him from behind. "Answer her!" He demanded.

"No," Ivan said defiantly, a smug smirk forming on his face. "I can't let you save the demon."

That was the last straw. The crazy lunatic of a man standing before her calling Shawn a 'demon' finally caused her to snap. Within seconds of him finishing the sentence, she had her gun up and pointed directly in Ivan's face.

"What did you say?" Juliet practically growled, and the fear on Ivan's face was practically worth all the paperwork she would have to file after this incident.

"Please don't shoot me!" Ivan begged, attempting to shrink away from the blonde detective. "I'll tell you everything, I promise! Just don't shoot me!"

Juliet cocked her gun. "Tell me what poison you used!"

"Sarin!" Ivan yelped as Lassiter 'accidentally' pushed him closer to Juliet's gun. "I used Sarin!"

"Tell me where the antidote is," Juliet ordered, her gun never wavering.

"I-it's in m-my satchel," Ivan was practically sobbing by now, the thought of his own death at the hands of these people too much to bear. He was no longer a defiant criminal, instead he had turned into a pile of quivering jelly when he'd found himself on the receiving end of a weapon.

Juliet stowed her gun quickly, and practically ripped the glorified purse off his body. She threw out the contents as she came across them, until she found a bottle and a syringe. "Is this it?" Ivan nodded, a tear leaking down his face. His life as he knew it was over, ruined; there was no point in lying.

Juliet looked up at her partner, and one desperate, pleading look was all she needed.

"Go," he told her. "I've got this under control."

She was already running off towards his car when she called back a quick, "Thanks, Carlton!" She knew he wouldn't appreciate her taking his car, but he'd left the keys in it and there really wasn't another option.

Lassiter watched his partner run off and jump in his precious car. He sighed as the tires squealed in protest when she pulled away from the curb at a highly illegal speed. There wasn't time to focus on it though; he had much more pressing matters to attend to, such as ascertaining the status of McNab and Guster.

And also, arresting Ivan Sadusky and making sure he shared a cell with the most brutal criminal the SBPD had in custody.

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

Henry didn't know what to think. He had been sitting in the hospital waiting room for what felt like forever, and no one had called him to explain things! Not even his son's doctor had made an appearance.

To make a list, Henry didn't know: 1) Shawn's current condition. 2) Where Gus was. 3) Why the hell the cops hadn't been able to track down and arrest Ivan Sadusky!

It was frustrating, really. Though maybe a bit more infuriating considering the current circumstances. There he was, sitting in a stupid, uncomfortable hospital chair alone in an empty waiting room. Everyone had disappeared (some more mysteriously than others) and _no one _had bothered to check in with Henry! Not even to wonder how much time Shawn had left, which Henry wasn't sure of himself. The doctor had said a few hours, but never specified how many exactly. At the moment, Henry wasn't sure if he'd rather know or not.

What he did know though, was that he really didn't want to be alone.

"I've got it! I've got it!"

Henry practically fell out of his chair when he heard a feminine voice yelling at the top of her lungs. Fortunately, he didn't, and he stood quickly to face the newcomer. His eyes widened when he took in the form of Juliet O'Hara running down the hallway as fast as she could, waving her arms in the air like a madman.

Henry stepped out in front of her, effectively blocking her path. She stopped right in front of him, a slightly crazed look on her face that made him a little suspicious and put him on edge.

"Mr. Spencer!" Juliet blurted excitedly. "You won't believe what just happened! Lassiter and I were looking for Sadusky, and then we heard Buzz on the radio, and Gus got hit on the head and then we arrested Sadusky and _I got the antidote!_" She summarized quickly. It took a minute for Henry to understand what the detective had just told him (and to be honest, most of it still didn't make sense), but when he got to the last bit he didn't have to think at all.

"DR. RATHBURN!" He bellowed, and began running in the same manner (minus the arm waving) that Juliet had been before, and she too joined him in his quest to find the doctor.

"Dr. Rathburn!" Juliet shouted, "WE HAVE THE ANTIDOTE!"

"DOCTOR-" Henry began again, but was cut off by another voice to their left.

"Yes?" Dr. Rathburn cocked his head to the side quizzically.

Henry and Juliet rushed at him the minute they saw him and both began talking at once, Henry seriously and Juliet in a bubbly, euphoric voice. The doctor couldn't understand what they were saying, but when Juliet shoved the bottle and syringe into his hands, he got the idea.

"Let me guess..." The doctor began, a small smile forming on his face, but didn't finish his sentence. He wasn't quite sure yet, but knew one of the two would clue him in.

"He used Sarin," Juliet said, cutting right to the chase. "This is the antidote." Then, on a more serious note, she asked, "Can you save him?"

Dr. Rathburn blew out a breath and stared down at the bottle, studying it, before saying, "I'm not sure, but I'll try." Then he turned in the direction he'd come from and headed to Shawn's room, calling for various doctors and nurses along the way.

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

Several hours went by as Juliet and Henry waited together for news on Shawn's condition. It worried them that they hadn't heard anything, but at the same time, they were comforted; because if they didn't hear anything new, then Shawn hadn't died. If no news meant that Shawn was still breathing, then they'd take it.

Somewhere during the passage of time, Lassiter joined them, along with a slightly disoriented Gus, whose worst injury was a concussion from being knocked unconscious. He informed them that Ivan was being processed by some other officers, and that Buzz had made it through surgery just fine. Soon, he said, the young officer would be conscious and coherent.

Juliet was relieved that everything seemed to be working out just fine. Still, she wondered how long the streak of newfound good luck would last. She knew it couldn't go on forever, but she couldn't help but hope it would last long enough to encompass a full recovery for Shawn. It was a long shot, she knew, but they had come so far in so little time. He couldn't just die, not after all that had gone down that day. It just wouldn't be right. She refused to believe the universe could be that cruel.

And so they waited.

And waited.

_And waited._

Then, finally, Dr. Rathburn approached the group, complete once more. He was clad in scrubs and the like. The group wasn't sure of exactly what had gone down during the time they'd spent waiting, but it didn't seem as if whatever it was had been easy. The doctor's countenance was tired and drawn. It had been a long day for him, too.

"Mr. Spencer," Dr. Rathburn greeted, exhaustion lacing his voice. He moved to stand right in front of Shawn's father, and the other three people waited just to the side of the two. Close enough that they could hear, but far enough away that the illusion of a private conversation was still intact.

"Doctor," Henry greeted in return, anxious to know what was going on with his son, but worried that he would receive bad news. In the end, he decided to just bite the bullet and ask, "How is he?"

The doctor blew out a breath and put his hands on his hips. "I gotta say, I haven't had a patient like your son in, well... actually, I've never had a patient like your son."

"He suffered some severe physical trauma," Dr. Rathburn continued, "and that added to the poison, which Detective O'Hara correctly informed me was Sarin, made for a lethal combination. I'm not going to lie," he looked at Henry rather seriously, "we nearly lost him several times."

Juliet moved forward then, and blurted, "I thought you just had to give him the antidote?"

Dr. Rathburn nodded, "Yes, well, unfortunately, one of our residents missed some minor internal bleeding when Shawn was first brought in. This progressed into severe internal bleeding when he seized early today." Then the doctor checked his watch, noting the time. "Make that late yesterday," he corrected.

"Stop beating around the bush, Doctor," Henry ordered. "Will my son... Will he live?"

Dr. Rathburn exhaled deeply. "I can't say he's out of the woods, Mr. Spencer." At this, Henry's shoulders slumped slightly, almost unnoticeably.

"But from what I've seen so far," Dr. Rathburn continued, "you're son's a fighter. That, and his body seems to be accepting the antidote. The next twenty-four hours will be crucial, and I don't want to get your hopes up, but I'd say things are starting to look up." Then he smiled, happy to finally be delivering some good news. Well, semi-good.

And for Henry, for all of them really, it was enough.

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

Somewhere during the course of the night, Juliet and Lassiter had gone home. Juliet hadn't wanted to at first, but then Henry had insisted and Lassiter had pointed out the fact that she still had blood on her clothes from when she'd fallen earlier. After that conversation, she'd been willing to return to her place, but only after making the remaining two men promise to call if there were any changes in Shawn's condition.

Henry had also tried to make Gus go home, but Shawn's best friend was stubborn. Plus, he didn't have anyone at his apartment to wake him up every few hours, which was necessary because of his concussion, and he shouldn't drive in his condition anyway. Henry had dropped the argument, which had been weak to begin with, then and the room lapsed into silence.

Henry knew he couldn't leave. Not while his boy was still hospitalized and nothing was certain. Still, he also knew that he couldn't stay there forever. Eventually, he would need to go home, but he couldn't bear leave. Apparently, Gus couldn't either.

And so the two waited. Just as Henry and Juliet had earlier. Henry was beginning to suspect that karma was at work, and the universe was getting back at him for every time he had snapped at Shawn out of lack of patience.

But he still waited.

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

By the time twenty-four hours had rolled around, the entire group had congregated in the waiting room again. Of course, they had all, except Henry, come and gone as the hours passed. Juliet and Gus had already gone to visit McNab, who was conscious and in the same hospital, twice and Lassiter had just gotten back from his house.

They stood as one when the doctor approached. It felt like an old habit by that point. They were like well-trained, obedient canines.

They all relaxed as they saw that the doctor wore a smile on his face.

"Hello, again," Dr. Rathburn said. "I'm just going to get right down to it: Shawn's body responded to treatment, and I expect him to begin recovering very soon."

When he heard that, Henry smiled for the first time in days. Juliet and Gus hugged, and both teared up a bit. Lassiter pulled out his cell phone and called Chief Vick to tell her the good news.

In time, everything would return to normal and Shawn would heal. He would be back at the station and bugging Lassiter while solving cases in no time.

In the end, they had overcome the obstacles set before them and survived.

That was all that mattered.

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

_**Fin**_

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

_**I know you guys were probably looking for more, but this felt right to me. Every time I tried to go back and add more, it just didn't work out. This is where the muse wanted to stop.**_

_**Please leave me a review! You all know I love hearing your thoughts :)**_

_**PS: I have an idea for a new Psych story! Yay! I hope to start posting chapters soon, but I can't make any promises. Though I will try to write several chapters in advance before I start posting. Oh, but I won't tell you what the story is about, 'cause that would ruin it :P**_

_**You guys are AWESOME!**_


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